Cluster
by barefootbean
Summary: A collection of Tellius drabbles. Various characters/pairings and genres.
1. Elena & Greil: Thrum

_**Thrum**_

Elena liked to think she could have been a heron.

When she closed her eyes, took a breath, and the let the sunlight's warmth seep into her skin like honey, she imagined that the land had a magic all its own. Dandelion seeds clung to her damp robes, pine tree branches croaked in the breeze, and broken grass blades stuck to her calves—to her ankles, to her toes; nature held tight even as she walked.

The medallion swept across her neck, and idly, Elena gripped it in her hands momentarily, feeling the world at her fingertips as it began to thrum, as if, in this forest, it yearned for more of what Lilia had once inhabited. As if, it sensed everything she saw and _wanted _it.

_Can't you feel it? _she'd asked Greil as the wind rustled by, but he'd only watched in quiet curiosity, expression solemn as she abruptly stumbled to a stop beneath a giant fir, the medallion swinging by its chain.

_Not really. Should I?_

It thrummed against her heart, whispering. Elena clapped her hand over it soothingly, stroking the finely engraved symbols even as she noticed her fantasy slowly fading around her. The galdrar reverberated in her mind, spreading out like an echo, and soon all she could hear was Lilia's voice in her head, urging her to grant the dark god's cries, urging her to throw her head back and sing.

_Elena? _Greil had questioned, voice low, and the only thing that had compelled her to answer was his careful hold on her arm.


	2. Micaiah & Pelleas: Uncharted

_**Uncharted **_

Micaiah stared at the woman in the mirror, silver adornments against her robed body shimmering prettily as she turned this way and that—dress of silk heavy yet shapely and cut to accentuate even the smallest of her curves. It was a strange feeling to be looking at herself and seeing the golden eyes of a woman looking back and not those of a little girl like she typically saw herself to be.

_I hardly look like the same person._

She was used to seeing some form of dirt or mud splattered on her face, and yet for once, her skin was pale and clean, and the light smell of lilies periodically wafted as she moved, silk trailing in her bare footsteps as she strode about the Keep's back corridors, loud and filled with the sounds of people seating themselves for the display that was to come. Lightly, she slapped her face and blood rushed to her cheeks, a warm glow contradictory to the pale skin that came with being part heron. If she knew she could have looked like this all the time, she probably would have locked herself away from mere embarrassment, the prospect of people staring at her making her feel as timid as a child, despite the age her looks belied.

_It's not as if I haven't been mistaken for one before though, either. This isn't anything compared to what's happened before. It's just... another step that needs taken in life. That's all._

Even with all her friends gathered together for the first time in months, and Pelleas down the hall, waiting, waiting for _her_—the calmness that came from reassurances she sought was not being as near as compliant as she would have hoped. Yune was gone, Sothe occupied, and her future uncharted.

"Breathe, Micaiah," she whispered to herself. "It's alright. Change isn't always a bad thing."

_Everything's alright._


	3. Heather & Nephenee: Shiver

_**Shiver**_

_It ain't never cold like this in Oma_, Nephenee had told her once, quiet and shy as Heather had probed her for all the misgivings she herself had never endured. The night was young, and the ground chilled by the open sky. Dinner had long ago been eaten, and the only thing on either of their minds was sleep. Absently, because it didn't matter when nobody was around, she turned to her companion and grinned unabashedly.

Cheeks red, nose running; it wasn't exactly the most attractive thing Heather had seen, but the blush upon her partner's face always was.

_Right, _she'd bitten out a bit too smugly,_ want to come get warm?_

It'd only taken seconds before her bedroll had the misfortune of being replaced by something larger, something softer than dirt, and something far warmer than the air; turned out that Nephenee made a great pillow, _clothed or no._

_Better?_ Heather had asked, breathing through moss colored hair, and Nephenee's answer wasn't far from being content.

_Yeah... um, t-thanks, Heather._

She smiled, pleased at their progress. _You betcha, _she whispered.


	4. Jill & Mist: Pray Tell

_**Pray Tell**_

Daein's air was cool against her cheeks that morning. It tugged at her scalp, pulled at her clothes; it chased away the warmth, and left her head hurting. It was a dull sort of throbbing ache, and Jill felt it as strongly in her toes as she did in her fingertips—ice cold and lacking that universal warmth of life.

At her feet lay a grave, cast in pallor shades of a light blue-gray and decorated with carnations. The soil was damp with rain, the surrounding grass green and slick with dew. An axe marked the spot, the blade large and powerful.

In her grip was a slightly smaller pair of hands. When Jill cracked her eyes to examine the thin and mottled fingers, cast in lines and withered with age that were gripping hers with all the strength they had possessed in their younger more rebellious years—and discovered they were trembling, Jill did the only thing she could do.

She squeezed Mist's hand right back and tried to pretend that this wasn't really happening. That, despite it all, they couldn't tame time like it had tamed them.


	5. Rafiel & Nailah: Out of Place

_**Out of Place**_

Winters in Serenes are rather dull without her, Rafiel thinks.

Sitting out on the veranda, watching snow fall for the first time in twenty years is a strange concept to him. It coats the ground, collects in conifers, makes the pine and cedar smell; twenty years later and these are smells he can't recall. Twenty years later and it's sagebrush that comes to mind. Twenty years later and he wouldn't have thought peaceful would be an adequate word to describe such a place. Hellacious, perhaps. Because this is a graveyard he now sleeps in, though he sleeps hardly a wink in such conditions when he can't feel her nearby.

It had only been a month since her departure, and he was already losing his composure.

He hadn't realized how much he had depended on her, and now he was learning to pay the consequences for thinking he was strong enough otherwise. It was silly, really; sleep was such an easy thing to come by on most days, and yet the action had eluded him for the past four weeks and counting. His bed was comfortable and provided just the right amount of warmth, and yet, he hadn't truly felt warm in a while.

When Leanne came to visit several days after Nailah's trek back to Hatari, she had been carrying flowers. _For you,_ she had said, smile alight and knowing, and if it weren't for the fact that she was as mischievous as his brother, Rafiel might have simply told her of his loss.

Certainly, it was such a small thing to get worked up about, and yet the distance in between him and his queen had him counting the days until her return.


End file.
